


Great Heights

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taiga's never been to one of Shuuzou's favorite places in LA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Heights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voices_in_my_head](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voices_in_my_head/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope you like this; I figured nijikaga's okay, right? haha.
> 
> (somewhat inspired by this prompt: http://otpdisaster.tumblr.com/post/116541657595/person-b-having-a-motorcycle-and-purposely-making)

It didn’t seem as if Taiga could hold him any tighter if he tried, but as Shuuzou hugs the curve and leans into it he feels Taiga’s arms clench around his waist again, his chin almost digging into Shuuzou’s shoulder through the fabric of his jacket. He feels a little bit bad for doing this, but he can’t deny that he enjoys the feeling of Taiga’s body around his like a shell.

It seems strange sometimes that a guy like Taiga has been such close friends with thrill-seekers like Tatsuya and Alex—not that he’s boring or particularly fearful, but he’s a pretty normal and reasonable guy. Then again, they need someone to rein them in sometimes, and so does Shuuzou.

They stop at a red light and Taiga loosens his grip a little bit but shifts forward on the seat, closer to Shuuzou. Shuuzou grins even though Taiga can’t see it through his helmet—just a little bit longer and they’ll be on the mountain and the traffic will dissipate like the smog and even though this part’s fun, it’s not what they’re doing this before. The light switches to green and Shuuzou speeds up, keeping an eye on the exit signs.

They’re not alone on the ramp but all the cars and trucks turn off, headed for other destinations. The road grows steeper and Shuuzou has to go harder to keep up the pace; after a while he lets it slow down anyway so they can enjoy the view. The highway is growing smaller below them; cars become the size of small toys. Taiga’s grip loosens and his head turns; Shuuzou laughs and slows even further.

When they finally reach the top Shuuzou tears off his helmet and leans on the bike. Taiga struggles with his, finally getting it off; his hair is all mussed up and sweaty from being under there for so long and it’s very cute the way his face is all flushed.

“Whoa,” he says. “That was…that was something.”

Shuuzou grins. “You haven’t seen all of it. Come here.”

He takes Taiga by the hand, leading him close to the edge. Below them, the city spreads out like a picture of a starry night done by a child, the darkness of the sprawling buildings built low to withstand shakes and faults punctuated by their internal lights, the streetlights, the billboards and the cars and every other hallmark of society. It feels removed up here, as if they’re watching it on television or through some other medium. Taiga moves closer and Shuuzou tucks his arm around his waist.

“It’s beautiful,” Taiga whispers, leaning his head on Shuuzou’s shoulder.

They stand for a while, watching the cars move across the landscape and different lights wink in and out like planes in the sky, before Shuuzou turns around.

“There’s this, too.”

It takes a few seconds for their eyes to get used to the change, but as Shuuzou squints up more and more stars come into view. Up here, there are way more of them to see than there are down under the smog and light pollution, and more than Shuuzou’s ever seen anywhere else (he supposes that’s just the city kid in him talking, but, well).

Taiga swallows and they stare up—Shuuzou wishes he’d learned the constellations and planets and which ones are visible at which times of year. They don’t speak for several minutes, content with each other and with the clear sky.

“It’s a little bit cold up here.”

“That’s why I told you to wear a jacket,” Shuuzou says. “Well, that and the ride up.”

Taiga hums, snuggling closer.

“You’ve really never been up here?”

Taiga shakes his head. “Never. When I was a kid we’d just run around the neighborhood; sometimes we’d take the bus or the train or whatever but we’d always stick to the flat ground. How’d you even find this place?”

“Just riding around,” Shuuzou says. “I had a lot of free nights in high school, so I just kind of…went joyriding a lot.”

It had been so much lonelier back then, before he’d met Taiga and before he could really speak English, after Tatsuya had left—they got better; they’re so much better now, but it’s been a long road (so to speak). He hasn’t been back up here for a while; he doesn’t need things like this to steady himself now, but when Taiga had mentioned that he’d never been up in the mountains at night, this place had come up and it’s every bit as good as Shuuzou had remembered. Hell, it’s better now that he has someone to share it with.

* * *

 

It’s a little bit warmer in the house when they get back but the night is still cooler than expected; once they peel off their sweaters it’s a little bit less comfortable than it ought to be for spring this far south.

“I’ll make tea,” Taiga says, and Shuuzou watches from the kitchen table as he busies himself with the kettle, the movements of the well-defined muscles in his back clear even at this distance and through his cotton shirt.

They sit in relative silence but for the hum of traffic far below the window and the tapping of Taiga’s foot and the sound of the tea kettle like a drawn-out breath. Taiga’s smile is worn and tender, and it really is getting late (the clock on the microwave says it’s after three in the morning and it feels even closer to dawn; at least they don’t have to get up early for work tomorrow). The kettle shifts in its tone, higher and more intense; steam is escaping from the spout and Shuuzou nudges Taiga.

He pours out the tea and hands Shuuzou his mug; it smells good already even though it’s just starting to brew, darkness spreading its tentacles lazily through the water. Taiga’s hand is still splayed out on the table across from him when Shuuzou looks up, so he grabs it. It’s still warm from picking up the kettle, and Taiga beams at him. He’s so damn cute sometimes it’s enough for Shuuzou to blush and feel almost bothered in their own apartment of all places.

They’re too tired to stay out in the kitchen for too long, make their way back to bed before much more time has passed, Taiga’s arm around Shuuzou’s waist.

“Thank you,” he whispers as they crawl under the covers.

The last thing Shuuzou remembers before sleep hits him like a frying pan to the head is curling his body around Taiga’s and the way he smells, like sweat and sweet spices.


End file.
